The Week After: Visitors
by Estepheia
Summary: The second of the Week After Series. PostGift. Tara visits Spike in his crypt, when other more hostile visitors appear...
1. Part 1

TITLE: "The Week After: Visitors"  
AUTHOR: Estepheia  
PART: one of a series of connected stories; set before my first story "Watching me, Watching you"  
DISCLAIMER: The characters are not mine (unfortunately). Don't sue me.  
DISTRIBUTION: Want it? Take it. Just let me know where it's going.  
FEEDBACK: Yes, please. Estepheia@aol.com  
SPOILERS: Post-Gift; incorporates rumors of the upcoming season  
SUMMARY: set in the week after "The Gift". Spike has several unexpected visitors, first Tara, then a staking party  
RATED: PG-13 (language, violent imagery)  
Text between * * equals Spike's thoughts.  
THANKS TO: to my dear and clever betas: Kate, Nmissi and Marcee.  
SPECIAL THANKS to Marcee, for briefing me on fraternities and baseball teams.  
  
After four days Spike realized he was falling apart at the seams. He sat in his mausoleum, unable to sleep, even though it was close to noon, listening for sounds that would never come. Because she was dead. She wouldn't storm in, deal a few punches and trade a few insults. She had always been so beautiful in her anger. With all that adrenalin surging through her it had almost felt to the vampire as if he could bask in the Slayer's body heat.  
  
Except that she was cold now, dead and buried.  
And he felt more cold and dead now than ever before. Hollow.  
  
Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching. For an insane moment his imagination went haywire. Buffy? But no, this didn't sound like her.  
  
There was a timid knock.  
"Yeah?"  
The door opened.  
"Tara? What are you doing here? Is anything wrong? Somehing happen to Dawn?"  
  
The young woman shook her head. "No! Everything is fine, really. I mean not fine, but, you know, normal."  
She grimaced slightly at her own jumbled words.  
  
"Oh, good."  
He was pathetically glad to have company. But since he didn't really know how to express that sentiment, or whether it was a good idea to try to, he just leaned against the stone coffin and lit a cigarette.  
  
He looked her over. The first thing he noticed was that her hand was in a cast again. *Looks like Glory did quite a bit of damage.* Tara wore one of her flowery skirts, the pattern so swirly it gave him a headache, with an equally horrible knitted cardigan. It made him want to ask her for a joint, or perhaps a magic cookie, except he didn't think she was into chemicals. She was carrying two brown paper bags that looked quite heavy. Her pigtails were kind of cute. He almost choked, when he caught himself thinking that.   
  
Meanwhile Tara studied him as well. Physically the vampire looked as always, perhaps a bit thinner. His injuries were pretty much healed. There were only a few minor bruises left. His appearance was disheveled and scruffy, his hair unkempt. With a shock Tara realized that Spike was still wearing the same clothes he had worn the night they fought Glory, four nights ago. She could see the cut Doc's knife had made in his shirt and the tears that had been caused by his fall off that tower. When they had buried Buffy he had worn his duster, and he had had to stay in the shade of nearby trees, to avoid being set on fire by the sun. So Tara hadn't noticed that he hadn't changed.  
  
"Don't just play doorstopper, come on in. There's nothing on the telly, anyway."  
  
The young woman slowly entered the crypt, awkwardly setting her bags on the floor. She looked around curiously, taking in the shabby furniture, the televison set, the dozens of unlit candles, the stone sarcophagus and the almost complete lack of decoration. The mausoleum had several arched windows, their panes blind with dirt, that let in a dim kind of daylight. It was obvious that the place was normally kept reasonably tidy but not recently. A few empty bottles, glass shards and cigarette butts lay scattered across the floor.  
  
"Yeah, this is how I live. Welcome to my den of iniquity. Sorry, it's the cleaner's day off."  
"It's ... ah ... very ..." For want of an adjective that was both honest and polite her voice trailed off uncertainly.  
  
"Retro? Gothic? Maybe Shabby Chic? Yeah, well, I never was much of a decorator. Never got round to adding a few unholy graffitis but I did order an Iron Maiden from Fingerhut."  
  
"Utilitarian, I was going to say. Is it home?"  
  
"Not really," he answered truthfully. "But it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick."   
He was beginning to wonder where all this was leading to. "Does Willow know you're here?"  
He wasn't used to seeing Tara without her lover.  
  
"No. But I am sure she wouldn't mind. I'll tell her later." The witch replied.  
*You're sure? Well, I'm not!* Spike found Willow quite possessive and overprotective when it came to people she cared about. Traits he could wholeheartedly identify with. But he just nodded.  
  
"She's still busy repairing the robot. Putting its head back on seems to be difficult, but I am sure she can do it." The witch told him proudly. "I couldn't really help her with that, so I decided to do the shopping for everybody. I'm on my way to the Magic Shop just now, to drop off some sandwiches. I brought you something to eat, too." Tara continued. She dug into one of the paper bags and pulled out several containers of pig's blood. "You eat, too, I mean normal stuff, don't you? Would you like a sandwich? There's Tuna, Egg Salad or Chicken."  
  
"Tuna's nice."  
"Then Tuna it is." She passed him the sandwich and the containers.  
"Cheers. You're having one, too? You know what, you make yourself comfy in that armchair and I'll sit over here." He sat down cross-legged on the stone sarcophagus and unwrapped his first solid meal in at least a week. Chewing food always cheered him up, especially since the Initiative chip prevented him from getting his fangs into necks and other parts of the human anatomy. He'd drink a pint of blood later, no need to spoil Tara's appetite. She had lost some weight, too.  
  
"What's it like?"   
"The sandwich?"  
"No! Living on ... you know ..."   
"Oh, you mean the blood. Pig's blood is perfectly putrid, especially when it's cold, let me tell you. But normal food doesn't keep me goin' and human blood's a bit hard to come by, these days. Unless ... you wouldn't need a bit of bloodletting urgently?" He made himself sound hopeful. Tara shook her head, smiling. "See?" Spike shrugged with mock disappointment.  
  
*There! For about 10 seconds I've managed not to think of Buffy. Great going!*  
He sighed and picked up a bottle.  
"Wanna drink?"   
Tara shook her head.  
He took a good swallow, straight from the bottle. The alcohol was warming him as if he were mortal.  
  
"Does it help?"  
"Drinking? Not much." Spike admitted. It dulled the pain, the sense of loss. It didn't dull the self-loathing, the feeling of having failed Buffy or the urge to embrace the sun, though. He was treading a very thin line, there.  
  
Tara looked around the crypt searchingly.  
  
"What?"  
"You have electricity for the tv and the fridge, but no running water and no ... you know."  
"No loo. Don't need one. Don't ask me why, never bothered with the scientifics of it all. Do you need to...?"  
"Oh, no!" she hastily declined, a bit embarrassed at the turn the conversation was taking.  
  
Spike watched as a delicious blush crept over her features. He couldn't help but notice that she smelled nice. There was just a hint of Willow on her, which on better days would have led him to playfully fantasize about a nice threesome with the two witches. Thought was free, after all. Right now it just reminded him that they had each other to console, while he was alone.  
  
"So, where do you wash ... your clothes, I mean?"  
"And myself?" Spike said, making a conscious effort not to brood. He lit himself another cigarette. "My, my, you are an inquisitive little witch. Normally, I sneak into a motel and use the bath there, or I take a quick shower somewhere on campus, plenty of more or less public showers there. But sometimes I go for a swim in the Pacific. And the rags? Laundrette."  
  
He tilted his head and regarded Tara with curiousity. *Well, well. Am I seriously having a real conversation, here? We haven't insulted each other and she is in no particular hurry to get away from me.*  
Aloud he said lightheartedly: "What else do you want to know? Do I brush my teeth? Yes. Do I sleep naked. No. Do I wear briefs or boxers? Neither. What is this, a quiz show? Are you researching a homestory for Witches Weekly? You didn't come here to admire my humble crypt. So, tell me, why are you here?"  
  
Taken aback by the sudden change of topic Tara blurted out: "I came to apologize."  
"Huh? Good Lord, girl, what on earth do YOU need to apologize for?" *You're one of the most inoffensive beings I've ever met. Angelus would have really gotten off on killing you. Or on turning you into another Dru...*  
  
"Your hands. I burnt them, in the RV, when ...you know ... I'm s-sorry I hurt you."  
"Oh, you remember that? Well, then you'll also remember that I wasn't cross with you, then. Look, all healed." He held his hands in front of her eyes flipping them back to front and wriggled his fingers, then he smiled. "Besides, I hit you on the nose once, so I guess that makes us even."  
  
"You have a very strange concept of ‚even'", Tara observed. "That b-blow was one of the kindest things anyone's ever done for me."  
"No! Don't say that word!" He made a pained face. He knew he couldn't fool her. Not any more. But he went through the motions, anyway "'Kind' and ‚vampire' don't mix. Those two words are entirely incompatible."  
  
That punch in the nose and the painful bit of zap-Spike's-brain that the Initiative chip had punished him with had proven to her and the Scoobies that Tara was a hundred percent human, no matter what her backward relatives said. As he had known it would. *She always did smell human to me.*   
  
"Oh, like ‚living' and ‚dead'? I don't think so. A-actually, I think you knew that chip would hurt you and went ahead, anyway."  
  
He shrugged, but he was moved. To hide his feelings he busied himself by lighting another cigarette. He remembered vividly how Buffy had claimed Tara on that day, how all the Scoobies had stood up for her. For a passing moment he had secretly wished he could be in her place. Had wanted to belong. God, how he hated being lonely!  
  
"Spike?" He looked up and found her looking at him. For a few heartbeats they just looked at each other. "Thank you." Tara finally said, sincerely.  
"Any time, luv, any time."  
  
She was about to say something but Spike suddenly raised a hand to silence her. She noticed how alert he looked and guessed correctly that he was listening to sounds she was yet unable to perceive.  
  
"Someone's coming." Spike said. "You expecting someone?"  
Tara shook her head.  



	2. Part 2

THANKS to my betas Kate, NMissi, Miss Binks and MARCEE  
***  
  
Spike jumped off the stone sarcophagus and pushed the lid open.  
"Quickly, get inside."  
"No!" Tara said.  
"Willow will fry me if something happens to you! Hop in!"  
"No!" she insisted. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with it together."  
  
Spike frowned, but it was too late anyway, because the crypt door crashed open. A group of young men noisily barged down the stairs and into the crypt. Six of them, to be precise. Two were waving flashlights around; two clutched crosses and a guy with glasses carried a large water gun. They were all equipped with stakes. One carried an expensive looking video camera on his shoulder, his stake tucked into his belt. An electric torch was taped to the camera, its light beam wandering uncertainly through the crypt.  
  
*Oh, bugger! A staking party! Just what I need!*  
  
When the intruders realized that the crypt was lit and that there were two people standing in it, the young men halted, momentarily confused. Keeping their crosses or stakes raised in front of them they looked around and at each other, unsure what to do next. They took in the furniture, the television and VCR, the shopping bags, the sandwich wrappers and crumbs and suddenly looked sheepish, no longer convinced that the mission that had brought them here was such a good idea.   
  
*Just be cool, they don't know you can't hurt them.*  
  
"Now, who might you be? I can't remember inviting you in." Spike said, trying to keep his tone somewhere between casual and friendly, but coming across as condescending. He flicked cigarette ash on the floor and cocked his head to one side. "If you want to throw a party, find yourself another crypt. This one's already taken. And please close the door on your way out, will you?"  
  
*Too bad I can't turn people into obedient little bug eaters like old Vlad can. That would really come in handy, now.*  
  
A tall blond guy in a blue UC Sunnydale sweatshirt, who had the powerful build of an athlete, turned off his flashlight. He and the others turned to look at the young man who carried the camera. This was obviously their leader. Slim, dark-haired, dark eyes, pretty, the kind of guy who always gets the girls. He also seemed to be the oldest of the bunch, a senior, while the others had that certain first-year aroma about them.  
  
Spike was surprised to notice that he took an instant dislike to that senior. He also had the strange feeling that he had seen his face before, possibly at some party on campus. He took a closer look and noticed his T-shirt had Greek letters on it. *So this is what Greek life looks like in Sunny D. Bloody Americans! Can't they just go and get legless on large quantities of beer, like any decent self-respecting student should?*   
  
"Jason?" the senior student asked, glancing at one of his friends, a wiry fellow, who despite his youth looked a bit like a lawyer.  
  
"Dunno, brother." Jason answered. He peered into a little mirror angling it so he could see Tara's reflection. "She's human, I mean, she's alive. But he's the real McCoy, no reflection."  
  
"Hey cool, like in the movies!" an expensively dressed nerdy looking boy remarked to no one in particular.  
  
"Shouldn't he, like, sleep in his coffin, at this time of day?" one of them asked, his voice whiney. Spike thought he looked like a boy band reject, too pretty for his own good.   
  
"Who's she?" the blond guy asked, waving a stake in Tara's general direction.  
  
She moved closer to Spike. "I... I think you should leave." She said calmly. Spike could hear her heart racing nervously, though.  
  
The dark-haired fellow shrugged. "He probably lured her here for the kill."  
  
Hearing the young man speak Spike suddenly realized who he was dealing with. *Parker. That's his name! Also known as Mr. One-Night-Stand. I knew I'd seen him before.* He also recalled the circumstances under which he had met him. Parker had been Buffy's date at some fraternity house party. He had also shagged the Slayer that night and dumped her for good, afterwards. At the time Spike had taunted the girl about her dead end love life. Now he felt quite different about the whole thing.  
  
"Hey Parker, why don't you take her advice. Take your friends and get out of here."  
  
Parker frowned but decided to ignore the vampire. "Listen, girl," he said to Tara, lowering the camera for a moment. "This may be hard to believe, but blondie over there is a vampire, and he'll kill you given half a chance."  
  
"I know what he is." Tara replied. "Don't worry, I am not in danger. Just go, and no one gets hurt."   
  
"Perhaps she's under his thrill." The band reject suggested.  
  
"The word is thrall, you moron. And no, she isn't" Spike said and vamped out. He flicked his cigarette butt across the room and gave them a toothy smile. "You heard the lady. Get lost! Before I forget myself and bash yer brains in!"  
  
He noted with satisfaction how the young men involuntarily took a step backwards. Jason, the lawyer-look-alike, looked as if he was about to faint. Only the athlete seemed all the more determined. He clutched his stake and glared at Spike with single-minded intensity.  
  
*Thick as a plank, that one. No sense of self-preservation. It's a wonder he ever managed to live to the age of twenty-something without being eaten by one of Sunnydale's nasties.*  
  
"Mark? Grab the girl. If she gives you any trouble, tie her up. Once we've turned Blondie into a pile of dust she'll come to her senses." Parker decided. "Ricky, Butch and Jason .... stake him! Gary? Shoot him!"  
  
The nerd nodded, taking a first tentative step towards Tara. The one called Gary readied his water gun. The other students hesitated.  
  
"Enough of this." Parker snapped. " Are you men or mice? You want to become full-fledged brothers? Then take him!"  
  
Spurred into action by Parker's words the students went for them. Except for Parker, of course, who was busy filming the whole brawl.   
  
As Gary fired his gun at Spike, Tara threw herself at him, more or less effectively shielding the vampire from the jet of water. Even so, a few drops of Holy Water hit Spike's bare skin where they began to sizzle and smoke, as they burnt into his undead flesh. He flinched in pain. While the witch struggled with the surprised student, trying to disarm him, the other three came after Spike.  
  
The first attack was easily sidestepped. He didn't even have to touch the boy group reject to make him crash into the wall of the crypt. His own momentum was enough. But Spike knew he wouldn't be able to take his opponents out with defensive moves alone. Sooner or later the chip would kick in and render him unable to fight.  
  
Suddenly there was a loud cracking sound and a howl. Spike quickly glanced towards Tara and saw that her casted hand had just connected with Gary's head, knocking his glasses to the floor. Blood gushed out of the student's nose, staining the white plaster-of-Paris. "Ow, the bitch broke my nose!" the young man yelped. He dropped his water gun and knelt down groping for his glasses. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his Dodger's jersey.  
  
Spike turned his attention back to his own opponents, just in time to duck a blow. He blocked a swing, ducked another clumsy blow and disarmed the one called Jason by simply snatching the stake out of his hand and snapping it into several small pieces. The surprised look on the guys face was priceless.  
  
When the blond one rushed him Spike was prepared for it, trying another feint in the hope of having him, too, collide with the wall. He was, however, not prepared for the young man's speed and agility. Also, this assailant wasn't fooled by Spike's maneuver. He changed direction in mid-stride and took the vampire into a beautifully executed tackle. *Oh no, not a football player!*  
  
Spike was slammed backwards against the stone sarcophagus, which hurt quite a bit, but not as much as the excruciating pain that seared through his brain when he brought down his fists on the unprotected back of his assailant. He dimly felt something breaking underneath his fists, probably a rib or two.  
  
The young man howled in pain. But he never loosened his iron grip around the vampire's waist. Spike, too, howled and clutched his head with both hands. The sheer blinding agony rendered him momentarily helpless. He felt another body crashing into him with enough force to knock all three of them down. Spike grabbed the new attacker's head by the hair and although the chip almost instantly punished him with another stab of pain, he managed to shove the lawyer guy head first against the stone coffin.  
  
He couldn't see whether he had actually succeeded in knocking his opponent out because he was momentarily nauseated and his vision was blurred. On the migraine Richter his current headache had surely just gone off the scale. *One more zap and I'm going to vomit!* He thought he heard someone singing, but maybe that was just his brain reverberating from the pain.  
  
Meanwhile the blond boy, the one Parker had called Butch, still held on to him, despite his injury. His determination would have impressed Spike under different circumstances, but right now it was life threatening.   
Yet, while the demon within him raged, eager to rip the boy's arms out of their sockets and to drink his hot blood, another part of Spike couldn't bring himself to finish this brave stupid fool off for good.  
  
Spike struggled, trying to wriggle out of the boy's grip without setting the chip off again. Another student joined the scuffle and now they had him pinned. Finally, here it was, the fight he couldn't win. Butch and boy band reject Ricky looked at him in triumph. Butch brandished a nicely carved stake.  
  
"This" he said, "is for my sister. One of you bloodsuckers killed her on her Graduation day. This is for Harmony!"  
  
And the stake came down on the vampire's chest.  
  
(to be continued) 


	3. Part 3

His whole life or rather undead existence did NOT flash in front of his eyes as the stake descended. But quite a few feelings seemed to race through Spike's mind simultaneously: regret, as he realized he wouldn't be around to protect Dawn after all; concern whether Tara would get out of this in one piece; a strange appreciation of the irony of being killed by a bunch of stake-happy kids after having survived two World Wars, two Slayers *three if you counted Buffy* plus a full scale battle against a hellgoddess and her minions; sadness, that he wouldn't be meeting Buffy in the afterlife; and the frightening realization that he wasn't afraid to die. On the contrary. Just then Butch's words sank in.  
  
"Harm has a brother?" he blurted out just as a loud voice chanted the last verse of a spell:  
  
"...hold mine victim, as in tar!"  
  
The stake froze in mid-air, just as it plunged into his chest. It drew blood but stopped just two inches short of piercing his undead heart. Two inches away from being turned into a pile of dust. Butch was frozen in mid-movement, as were all the other students. It was obvious from the furious look on his face that he was fighting the spell with all he had, fighting to push his wooden weapon in just a little bit further. "I'll - kill - you!" he forced out between clenched teeth and the stake went in another inch.  
  
Tara rushed over to Spike, helping him wriggle out from underneath the stake. It tore his shirt and left a deep bloody rip in his pale chest. He got to his feet and quickly seized the stake frozen Butch was still holding. He yanked it out of the boy's grip.  
  
Tara grabbed the vampire's arm and pulled him into a kind of huddle. "I can't hold them like that for long. They're too many and I don't have Willow's power. But I think I can try to shut down your chip," she said quietly so only Spike could hear her. He noted that Tara handled the situation very well. No stutter, no useless displays of nervousness or fear.  
  
"You're sure this is gonna work?" he asked quietly.  
"No." Tara replied. "But it's all I can come up with at such short notice."  
  
She placed her hand on the vampire's head and chanted a brief incantation. Her face distorted by the effort to concentrate on two enchantments at once. Spike felt a brief stab of pain, as if the chip resisted its decommission, but its intensity was nothing compared to the earlier zapping he had taken.  
  
"Ow!" he said. "Well, SOMETHING happened. Let's just hope you haven't just connected me to the Borg hivemind."  
  
He took a deep breath. Frowned. *Wait. Something's not right.* He touched his forehead. Human face. It seemed his vamp face had disappeared at some stage. He looked at Parker and into the eye of the camera. It was still recording. Spike smiled and let the rage and bloodlust rise. His vamp face firmly back in place he gave Tara an evil grin.  
  
"What makes you think," he said, tilting his head and staring at her with predatory intensity, "I won't take a bite out of YOU, now that I can?"  
  
Tara just looked at him. He smelled fear on her. But her heartbeat was steady. He realized she wasn't afraid OF him but FOR him. Well, she had only ever known him WITH the chip.  
  
He shrugged. "You really have to be more careful, Maclay, who you trust. I'd hate to see you killed!"  
  
He resisted the sudden impulse to give her a friendly pat on the back. The visual was just too ridiculous and too embarrassing. Instead, he turned his attention to their foes. They looked scared, ready to run. Except for the football player whose fury was not yet spent. However, they were still unable to move.  
  
"Okay, then." Spike quickly moved from one student to the next, relieving them of their stakes and checking for hidden weapons. Without having to be told, Tara pried the crosses out of their hands. Meanwhile Spike was talking: "Look here, wild bunch, let's call this even. Butch here needs a hospital to get his ribs fixed and Jason or what's-his-name needs his head looked at. You wanna go stab yourself a vampire for your funny little initiation ritual? Okay by me. In fact, dust a dozen for all I care. BUT stay away from me and my place, you hear me? If you don't come for me, I won't come for you."  
  
Spike dumped the complete arsenal in the sarcophagus and pushed the heavy lid closed.  
  
*And now for the spoils of war. This will keep me in fags for a while.*  
He moved over to where Parker was standing and pried the video camera out of his stiff fingers, breaking two of them in the process. Not on purpose, but he wasn't sorry, either. And the nice thing was: the chip remained silent. It was a very strange sense of freedom. He could break bones, tear muscles and tendons, wring necks, bite and tear with teeth and claws, stab, slash, hack, kill - if he wanted to.  
  
He placed the camera on the floor, next to Tara, went back to Parker and gave her a nod. With a relieved sigh she let the spell dissipate. She was exhausted but tried not to show it.  
  
The moment the enchantment was lifted Spike grabbed Parker by the hair. Fangs bared he brutally dragged the young man further into the crypt; away from the entrance or rather exit.  
  
The other students began to move again, slowly regaining control of their bodies. Butch got up clutching his ribs. The one called Jason was still lying unconscious, a big purple bruise on his forehead. They seemed uncertain what to do. They knew that they were dead meat, because without their stakes and crosses they didn't stand a chance against an angry vampire. The smell of their fear was almost overpowering.  
  
"Out!" Spike simply said, pointing his thumb towards the door. "And don't forget your mate." Meekly but hurriedly they obeyed. Dragging their unconscious friend along between them, Ricky and Mark passed the vampire and his prey. They didn't even dare look at Parker as they headed for the way out, ashamed at abandoning him, but glad to get out of the crypt alive.  
  
Only Butch hesitated. He was obviously a team player, even if not one of the brightest fellows ever to grace the earth. And he was still full of anger and frustration. But he was also pretty confused.  
  
Spike gripped Parker by his throat and pinned him against a wall. But he turned towards Butch. "Listen, Kendall," he said conversationally. "You have guts. So, I'll give you a piece of advice: if you ever see Harm again, don't trust her. She's one of us now. Last thing I heard she was in L.A., but should she ever get back here, don't invite her in. Because, unlike me, she'll probably kill you."  
  
"Did you...?"  
"Make her a vampire? Nah, I just hung out with her a few times."  
"What ... what are you going to do with him?"  
  
"Oh, me and Parker, we've got on old score to settle. Don't you worry. We'll have ourselves a really good time." Spike said sardonically. "Off you go, Kendall!"  
  
Butch looked at Parker again and swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said, and turned to go.  
  
Parker struggled desperately, but he couldn't get a word out, because Spike tightened his grip. Together they watched the others leave. Moments later they heard the outer crypt door close.  
  
"Well, Parker, you're all mine now." Spike said cheerfully.  
  
TBC 


	4. Commercial Break (Skip it if you don't w...

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(A devious device to increase the tension. If you don't like this kind of joke, just go to the next part.)  
  
  
  
  
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END OF COMMERCIAL BREAK  
  



	5. Part 4

Spike relished the panic in the young man's eyes. It still tasted sweet. One and a half years of being chipped hadn't changed that. The demon was - after all - still there. He smiled.  
"Looks like your friends have better places to be. What's it feel like to be dumped by people you trust, hey?"  
  
The vampire lessened his grip on the boy's throat, enabling him to speak.  
"What score? What do you want from me?" Parker babbled. "I don't even know who you are!"  
  
"You treated Buh- ... a ... person I care about like shit. She trusted you and you trampled on her." *You had what I never had, never will have, and you threw it away.* "And now you'll pay!"  
  
"Whoever your friend is, I'm sorry. I'll make up for it, I promise. Please!"  
  
"Why'd you do it, Parker? To add another freshman to your collection? To show off to your mates? To prove yourself a great ladykiller when you're really just a pathetic little nancy boy?"  
  
Spike lifted his hand and almost lovingly cut Parker's cheek with his nail. A few drops of blood welled out of the cut.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
Spike leaned over. His golden demon eyes shone with hunger and pleasure. Almost languidly, he licked the blood off, as the young man whimpered in a mixture of fear and rapture.  
  
"SPIKE!"  
  
He turned towards the interruption, snarling. He had almost forgotten Tara was there. She looked at him, visibly concerned but not backing down.  
  
"What are you doing? Are you nuts? Do you really think SHE'd want you to do this?"  
  
"I loved her! I would have done anything for her," Spike ranted, all that pent up emotion coming to the fore. "And this ... this spineless little creep, who's not even worthy to live on the same bloody planet with her ..."  
  
"I know." Tara said softly.  
  
"...this complete and utter waste of space ..."  
  
He released his grip on Parker's throat. The young man coughed and clutched his aching neck. Bruises were already visible where the vampire had choked him. Parker slid to the floor, his legs suddenly weak. He sobbed.  
  
Spike turned away. He was disgusted. Both at Parker and at himself. He didn't even notice it when his human face reappeared. "Get out." he said flatly.  
Parker hurriedly scrambled to his feet and fled from the crypt without looking back.  
  
For a moment Spike and Tara just looked at each other. He fumbled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.  
"I'm sorry you saw me like that," he said quietly.  
  
"It's not his fault she's dead."  
"I know."  
  
She hopped up on the stone coffin and sat with her legs dangling. She nodded invitingly at the space beside her, so Spike joined her.  
  
"Tara?"  
"Yes?"  
"Your spell ... how long does it last?"  
"Not long. An hour, two perhaps."  
"Good."  
  
"You know," Tara said finally, "this place isn't so bad. You should get a few nice curtains, though. And maybe a bolt to keep out visitors."  
  
"Nah!" Spike replied.  
  
THE END  
  
  
MANY HUGS TO my great betas Kate, Nmissi, Miss Binks, Cestruma and Marcee.  
  



End file.
